


Buy Back

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle being a cute assistant, Celebrity Auction, F/M, Rum being a grumpy hottie, Stalking, fashion - Freeform, that's it basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the lovely prompt on tumblr: </p>
<p>"Gold is a celebrity and Belle is his assistant. He signs up for a celebrity auction hosted by his friends Cruella and Ursula, but when he finds out his long time stalker, Zelena, is there, he begs Belle to buy him at the auction."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buy Back

“How does a man with such taste look so uncomfortable in his own suit?”

Gold scowled and slapped Cruella’s hand away. She adopted a wounded expression but then quickly shrugged, rubbing the ‘injured’ appendage exaggeratedly along her fur coat. Yes, that was a piece of Gold’s too.

In fact, it appeared that the majority of the guests were decked out in his outfits, some of which were too old to still be considered fashionable: he spotted a jacket from his  _Fire_  line—designed soon after Bae was born—pants from the more recent  _Dark One_  collection—the result of one messy divorce and an even messier stalker—and there, just on the edge of his vision, was a full skirt from  _Teacups_.

Of course, everyone asked what had inspired  _Teacups_ , the line that catapulted Mr. Gold from ‘famous’ to ‘legendary’… “Your prying certainly wasn’t the muse,” was his standard response. Let the rabble talk. He had nothing more to say on the matter.

God he hated the public, and the public generally hated him. Why was he  _doing_  this?

“He’s getting that look again,” a voice said and Gold turned to find Ursula, leaning against the makeup station, patting her wave-blue dress. What Gold first thought was a checkered pattern turned out to be repeated, miniature octopi. He grudgingly expressed approval for the design.

“Like it? It’s Zelena’s work.”

“ _She_ —?”

“Don’t get your boxers in a twist,” Ursula snapped. “I’ve got an image to maintain, just like the rest of you, and she’s one of the only halfway decent designers. I didn’t think it wise to favor one of the auctions…” she eyed Cruella’s coat.

“Please, darling, this is charity not a competition and unlike others I have every intention of looking the best.” Cruella sneered at Ursula’s dress in turn. “Or the best out of what’s available,” she said.

“Thank you for that rather back-handed compliment,” Gold drawled.

Cruella flashed a wicked smile. “Oh, you’re quite welcome. See, I expect you to be very grateful for the remainder of this evening, Gold. You’ll pose for the audience, accept your buyer with grace, and proceed to give them the greatest evening they’re ever likely to have. Because as much as I hate to admit it, you’re our most famous auction tonight, and you  _owe_  us.”

A soft cough sounded behind the three, interrupting Gold’s glare.

“I’ll take it from here,” a voice murmured and within seconds Cruella and Ursula were replaced with roses.

At least, that’s how it seemed to Gold. The smells behind the stage had become oppressive—hairspray and powder, sweat and cigarette smoke. Within seconds it was all blown away, replaced with rose perfume and just a hint of orange.

Gold watched his assistant suck briefly at a sticky finger before reaching for him.

“B-belle?” he stuttered.

“Hold still,” she ordered. “You didn’t let Cruella finish your tie.”

Of course. Gold closed his eyes as Belle’s hands lay against him, fingers up near his neck and palms resting on his chest. He drew in a deep breath, partly to feel the shift of her atop him, mostly just to keep his cool. It had always been this way, ever since Maurice French’s textile business had gone south and he’d offered Belle up as a free assistant, desperate to relieve some of his debt. Gold had agreed, more with the idea to hire Belle as a model—perfect hair, hourglass shape, killer legs in heels—until he realized that he’d get to spend the most time with her as a  _personal_  assistant. Now she fulfilled every role from fetching him tea to tormenting his dreams.

Tea… Gold’s lips quirked at that. The first time Belle had ever attempted service (“I’m used to reading, sir!”) she’d gone flying, the teacup itself somehow remaining unharmed but for a small chip in the rim. He’d snatched it from her, worried she’d cut herself… desperate to keep it. Gold hid it in the single locked draw of his desk, next to his favorite picture of Bae.

Not that Belle knew any of this.

All she knew was that her boss was a too-old man with a too-bum leg and a temper that needed no adverb. About to be auctioned off to someone else, no less. Hilarious.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked, hands still fluttering around his neck. Belle’s manicured nails hit his collarbone and Gold shivered.

“Nothing, dearie… aren’t you done yet?”

“Nearly,” and to his shock Belle rose on tiptoe, reaching around him to smooth out his collar. For a moment Gold froze completely. The feel of her nearly pressed against him, a strand of hair tickling his ear, her voice light and—her voice?

“Keep calm,” Belle was whispering. “Okay? Just… keep cool.” Gold felt her take in a breath. “Zelena is here.”

His body jerked. 

“Calm, calm,” Belle murmured, fully hugging him now. “Easy. She can’t do anything, okay? Not anymore. Mr. Gold?  _Mr. Gold?_ ”

Gold nodded, sharp and fast, just enough to let Belle know he still heard her. He could no longer feel her though, despite their miraculous position. Gold couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

“What’s she doing here?” he bit out. A shaking hand dug into the top of his cane.

“I don’t know. She sure as hell wasn’t on the guest list. I checked it myself. I could have security escort her out for you, but…”  

But that would be too much, a confrontation their little drama didn’t need. Already the fashion world was obsessed, more interested in their little soap opera than anything they could put on a mannequin: Regina Mills’ sudden foray into the industry, her quick usurping of Zelena’s spot on an ever shrinking pedestal, the resulting catfight… and then suddenly Gold was involved, though how he’d never know. Maybe he’d cast an approving look at one of Zelena’s pieces. Maybe he just hadn’t been quite as awful to her as everyone else. He couldn’t say and it didn’t matter because the end result was the same, Zelena got it into her head that they would be the perfect team—partners, lovers, and who knew what else, ready to crush all the Regina Mills the world had to offer.

Gold was quite fine with that second part, just not with Zelena. The rejection hadn’t gone too well.

‘Not too well’ meaning stalking, kidnapping, and keeping Gold locked in a goddamn cage for two days until the police finally showed up. Zelena should be in  _jail_.

Amazing what money could buy these days.

“Mr. Gold?”

He jumped, feeling an ache in his left hand. Gold looked down and found that he was crushing Belle’s arm.

He felt sick. Tired. He wanted to apologize and pull her close again, appreciate this time what she’d selflessly offered. Gold wanted to thank Belle for things she didn’t know she provided him with, thank her for this warning, thank her for everything. He wanted to just say her name.

Instead what came out was: “You need to take me.”

Belle jerked back.

“ _Buy_  me, damn it all.” Gold stumbled as well, clutching her arm again to regain his balance. To his relief, Belle met him half way. “Zelena. She’s easily the richest here. She’ll win the bidding like that.” Gold snapped his fingers in emphasis, his whole arm shaking.

Belle was gaping like a fish.

“ _Me?_ ”

Who else? “Yes, you.”

“I don’t have any money!”

Gold nearly laughed aloud. Releasing her he fumbled for his phone, shoving it so she could see the “GOLD” brand name as his background. “I’ve got all the money you need, dearie. You don’t hold back a dime. Understand me?  _Not a dime_.”

Belle was still staring, but slowly her expression morphed from shock to understanding. She straightened, smoothed her hair, quickly becoming the efficient, astounding assistant that he’d come to depend on. Belle even managed a small smile.

“Right,” she said. “I get it. Really. You’ll be okay up on that stage?”

Did he have a choice? “I’m fine, dearie,” he said, trying to regain his equilibrium.

“Gold!” Ursula’s voice came from down a ways, too soon for his liking. “You’re up!”

“Good luck,” Belle murmured and Gold felt a prick against his cheek. It took him the time between her words and the hem of her dress disappearing through the back for him to realize that she’d kissed him.

“ _Now_ , Gold!”

“… Coming.”

Gold shuffled towards the curtain, hand to his cheek. He held onto Belle’s touch the whole way there.

***

“…  _needs no introduction! This fine specimen comes all the way from Storybrooke Maine—wouldn’t think it from the accent though! Anthony Gold started out as a small time antiques dealer, but from a young age he yearned to get the rest of the world as fabulously dressed as he was. Yes, everyone, you heard right,_ the _Anthony Gold, of GOLD luxury clothing. So he’s rich! Haha, that’s not all Anthony has going for him though. As I’m sure you can see, he’s in impeccable shape, don’t you think? A distinguished bit of silver at the temples, and would you believe, I think those are laugh lines around his mouth! But truly, everyone, I can say with assurance that Anthony is indeed a kind soul beneath all that bluster. He’s a father after all! One lovely boy by the name of Bae. And yes, that relationship is biological… now now, keep it down! You’ve heard enough! Who wants to learn first hand if Anthony is as good at taking clothes off as he is at putting them on? Starting at $250!”_

Gold scowled, his stomach churning at the announcer’s words. It was complete and utter bullshit—everyone here knew it was a dinner date only, no sex or otherwise allowed—but the idea seemed to be enough to get the crowd excited. Gold looked on in horror at some ten paddles flew into the air.

“Two sixty!”

“Two seventy-five!”

“Five hundred!”

“Ha! Five fifty!”

“Animals…” Gold muttered, blinking under the harsh lighting. He honestly didn’t know if these people were interested in his money or the industry gossip. Surely they weren’t interested in  _him_?

“Nine hundred!”

“Nine fifty!”

“Nine sixty!”

“ _Two thousand_.”

The voice was familiar—the cadence and the confidence. Gold’s blood ran cold as the rest of the room hushed in awe.

Zelena was there, right in the front of the pack. She caught Gold’s eye and waved the paddle cheekily.

“T-two thousand,” the announcer spluttered, coming back to himself. “Ah, right! Going once… going twice…”

“Three thousand!”

_Belle_.

He spotted her then, as far back as Zelena was near, yet Gold had never felt any closer. She stood straight in her heels, voice carrying clear across the room. It was only after the pregnant pause that Belle seemed to realize what she’d said. She paled and ducked her head, peeking up at him nervously.

Not that he could reassure her from here. Instead Gold subtly jerked two fingers upwards:  _Go higher_.

“Thirty five hundred,” Belle amended.

“Four thousand,” Zelena snapped. She was craning her neck to try and see the competition.

“Forty five hundred.”

“Five thousand.”

“Six.”

“ _Ten_.”

By now the crowd had parted like the red sea, leaving Zelena at one end and Belle at the other. Feeling more relaxed than he had all night, Gold leaned against his cane to enjoy the show. Belle fed off his stance and started sauntering forward.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” she said kindly. Only Gold could have heard the steel in her voice. “How about this, you name your highest price and we’ll see if I’m willing to surpass it, hmm?”

Zelena glared. She didn’t look particularly happy with this offer. In fact, she looked positively green.

Still, she gave Belle a nod and turned to the announcer. “One million.”

_So that’s how much I’m worth to you…_

“… One million,” the announcer repeated faintly. “One million… uh, right! Miss?”

Belle rocked back on her heels, looking like she was thinking hard. Despite his order, Gold found himself leaning forward to traverse the distance, holding his breath with the rest of them.

Belle suddenly shot forward again, one hand out and a smug grin on her face.

Her hand held two fingers. For ‘two million.’ For ‘victory.’

***

“You spent two million on yourself,” Belle said weakly, not for the first time. “ _I_  spent _two million_ on  _you_.” The situation had rapidly caught up with her.

“I spent two million on my freedom,” Gold corrected. “A rather small price to pay, I’d say.” He signed the check with a flourish, turning to shove it against an equally stunned Ursula. “Debts paid,” he spat and started hobbling towards the door.

All Gold wanted was to end this nightmare of a night.

But a small hand caught his arm.

“You owe me a dinner,” Belle said slowly. She looked Gold up and down, appraising him. He unconsciously straightened under her stare.

“… Do I?”

Why was he questioning this?

“Yes. I bought you for the night.”

“That wasn’t your money, dearie.”

Why was he  _fighting_  this?

“Humor me,” she said and easily slipped her arm beneath his. Gold swallowed hard, trying not to knead the delicate skin there. Trying not to trip.

“Besides, I have some questions to ask you.”

Gold winced. Of course. How could he possibly think she was—

“—such as why you named your collection  _Teacup_.”

…Oh.

_Oh._

“Yes. Well…” Gold awkwardly cleared his throat. “Between you and me, I was thinking of naming the next line  _Chipped_.”

Belle cast him a sly look. “Really.”

“Perhaps.”

“It sounds like something we should discuss over dinner.”

“Dinner.”

Gold couldn’t agree more. He finally left the theater, he left Zelena, and the smell of roses left with him.


End file.
